


Special Delivery (Broken Soul)

by prettysophist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettysophist/pseuds/prettysophist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry shows an uncharacteristic amount of initiative, and the Ministry are incompetent. Genfic. Non-graphic violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Delivery (Broken Soul)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for _tamingthemuse_ on LiveJournal. Prompt #395: Broken Soul.

Melinda Baker liked to think that she was a kind, motherly sort of woman. She had had a hard life, but overall a good one. She had a decent job that paid well, and several beautiful children whom she would never allow out on the streets alone on a night like this. Not in this neighbourhood.  
So when she saw the boy trying to make a call at the old, out-of-order telephone booth she was concerned, and didn’t hesitate to head over to see if there was anything she could do for him.  
A few metres away from the phone booth she stopped, staring. There was something very strange about this boy. He was garbed in something black and robe-like—the sort of thing you saw kids wearing about the place on Halloween—and he carried something rolled up under his arm. The phone actually seemed to be working for him, because she could see him talking into the receiver. At his feet lay what appeared to be a human body, but the object was so cocooned in ropes that it was hard to tell.  
As she watched, the body stirred. An expression of irritation crossed the boy’s face, and he kicked it quite hard in the head, causing it to still. Melinda gasped in horror.  
The boy must have heard her, for he glanced up. Brilliant green eyes peered from behind a messy fringe, boring directly into hers.  
She blinked, and the boy was gone, the body along with him. In fact, there was nothing to indicate that the phone booth had ever been occupied at all.  
She pinched herself, hard, then looked again. Nothing.  
Shivering violently, she turned away and hurried home. She didn’t believe in ghosts. She never had. But she wasn’t going to stick around to be proven wrong.  


* * *

  
“Six…two…four…four…two…” Harry muttered as he dialled. Merlin knew how he’d remembered it—probably something to do with how stressed he’d been last time he’d come through here. They said that strain did funny things to your memory, and he guessed they were right.  
“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”  
“Er…” How to put this? “Harry Potter, here to deliver Lord Voldemort to the Auror Department.”  
“Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes,” chimed the voice, as a couple of badges slid out of the coin return chute. He attached the one reading: _Harry Potter, Special Delivery,_ to the front of his robe as instructed. _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,_ said the other.  
It had been that kind of year.  
Right on cue, the body at his feet stirred slightly. Apparently the sleeping draft was wearing off. Damn.  
“Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”  
“Cool, will do.” Harry laughed slightly hysterically, wondering whether security would try to confiscate Voldemort, or the bundle of Horcruxes under his arm. He could just see the headlines now.  
Voldemort stirred again, dangerously close to regaining consciousness, and Harry kicked him in the side of the head. He was pretty thoroughly bound, but Harry wasn’t going to run the risk of him using wandless magic.  
A horrified gasp made him glance up sharply, and saw a Muggle woman staring at him in shock. Great. Just what he needed.  
Fortunately, the lift began to sink before he could decide whether or not to risk Obliviating her. The Ministry would probably be too busy justifying their own stupidity over the next few days to care about what one Muggle thought she might have seen.


End file.
